


in a day and a day

by haipollai



Category: Captain America (Comics)
Genre: Broken Memories, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, post winter soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:11:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haipollai/pseuds/haipollai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come on, get you cleaned up." He slips an arm under Bucky's arm and lifts him easily. The movement makes him gag again but he keeps the vomit back.</p>
<p>"Rogers, I highly recommend you put him down. The Winter Soldier is a value asset-"</p>
<p>"Bucky Barnes," Steve interrupts. "His name is James Buchanan Barnes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	in a day and a day

Steve moves faster than anyone expects, moving across the room before the agent has truly registered he's even there. He gets the gun in one hand and the other latches around the agent's neck, physically throwing him across the room. His head hits the wall with a dull thud and he slides to the ground unconscious.

Bucky spits blood on the floor and slowly lifts his head, trying to figure out what's going on. More agents have spilled into the room though they're at a loss now. Some gather around their fallen agent. The others keep a hand on their guns but don't seem to know what to do next.

Bucky's vision is full of Steve. "I must have a concussion," he mumbles. Steve's fingers touch his head, finding where the butt of the gun had hit him. Bucky winces at the stab of pain and Steve's touch immediately lightens.

"Fuck Bucky, what did they do to you?" Steve asks. Bucky shakes his head but it just makes him feel nauseous, his memories of even the last few days are splotchy. Gray rooms full of gray furniture with men dressed in gray. Steve snarls at someone but Bucky can't make himself care. "I'm taking him out of here."

"I don't recommend that," someone answers.

"Like I give a fuck." Steve carefully takes Bucky's hand in his, following the handcuffs, tracing the links to their weakest point.

"You're cursing like a fucking sailor," Bucky mumbles.

Steve cracks a small smile for him. "I'll make sure to say my prayers tonight." He snaps the handcuffs easily and then the cuffs around Bucky's ankles. He tries to move but his legs are cramped. "Come on, get you cleaned up." He slips an arm under Bucky's arm and lifts him easily. The movement makes him gag again but he keeps the vomit back.

"Rogers, I highly recommend you put him down. The Winter Soldier is a value asset-"

"Bucky Barnes," Steve interrupts. "His name is James Buchanan Barnes." Bucky tries to concentrate but he isn't entirely sure who he is and the words just wash over him. Both names feel right and both feel wrong. If his head would only stop swimming long enough for him to concentrate.

"Home?" He whispers, not even sure where that is but if the man beside him is taking him there, than Bucky knows it's safe.

"Home." Steve isn't saying this to Bucky. He's saying it to the agents. There's no waiting for confirmation from the agents around them. Steve physically carries him out of the room and it all feels vaguely familiar. A walk they've done before in different circumstances. "Bucky?" Steve sounds so concerned that Bucky opens his eyes. He doesn't even remember closing them. "Maybe a hospital first."

"'M fine."

"You're a liar." He pauses before scooping Bucky up and putting him into a car. "Only one person I trust."

Bucky closes his eyes again, not caring where Steve takes him. Or if Steve simply leaves him to die. Everything hurts, somewhere deep down inside him that no medicine can fix.

The headache has faded when he comes to. He can feel the pressure of bandages on his head and more around his wrist where the cuffs had dug in. Steve's holding his hand as well, careful of the injuries but still solid and secure.

It feels good to smile at him. "I know you," he whispers, reaching up with his good hand, the metal hand. Nothing they can do to that one short of yanking it out. Steve catches it in his own and kisses his knuckles.

"I'm so sorry, I should have realized earlier."

"No, I can take it. Was good anyway. Shook things loose." Steve's brow furrows and in Bucky's head he's remembering all the times Steve was small, too young and too old and he looked at Bucky just the same. "My memories. All a fucking mess."

"Buck," Steve breathes and leans down to kiss him. Quick, as if they're back in the war, in the infirmary tent and Steve just needs to make sure Bucky is alright.

"Idiot." He turns slowly onto his side and lets his eyes close again. Steve will protect him, he knows that for sure.

-

Steve watches Bucky drift to sleep, even with his memories a mess and half gone, still somehow trusting Steve. He tilts his head back, trying to breathe past the lump in his throat.

Linda clears her throat softly as she comes into the room. "How is he?" She goes through a practiced routine, checking vitals and bandages. The head wound is still angry and red. Steve is disgusted at the sight, that anyone could do this to Bucky.

"He seemed more aware when he woke up," Steve answers, shifting his grip so his fingers rest lightly on Bucky's pulse.

"Good." She holds up a small bottle for him to see it's label. "Morphine. He's going to be in a lot of pain for awhile longer. They did a number on him Captain."

"Get him better. Please."

She smiles in understanding having worked with them all enough to understand. A man can only watch his best friend die so many times. "That's what I'm here for Captain."

He sits back, still holding Bucky's hand as Linda continues her examination. He wasn't even meant to be in the detention bloc that day, Clint had gotten himself in trouble and Steve had to be responsible and bail him out. Instead he had found Bucky being pistol whipped.

The memory is still vivid and Steve has to push himself away. He steps outside of the room so he doesn't interfere with the Night Nurse's work. He paces anxiously outside, trying to think clearly. Except with Bucky Barnes, he's never been able to think clearly. He knows Bucky can't go back, he won't send him back but what options does that leave.

The Night Nurse comes out, it could be minutes or hours later, Steve isn't sure.

"He'll be fine, Captain." She touches his arm gently.

"Thank you." 

-

Bucky presses the syringe into the man's neck. He can't _think_. Everything hurts and this man is just looking at him calmly, hands to the side where Bucky can see them.

"Breathe, okay? It's Steve, focus Buck."

The voice cuts through some of the haze, Bucky knows it, knows him. He doesn't let go of the syringe stolen from the nurse but he sits back on the bed. "I'm sorry."

Steve touches his neck but Bucky was careful, he didn't break the skin. No sense in damage unless necessary. "It's okay, I startled you. You feel better?"

"I- yea." He looks at Steve, and he remembers him now, in the same patchy way he remembers anything. "Why'd you break me out of there?"

"You-" Steve sucks in a sharp breath and seems to rethink what he was going to say. Something in Bucky's face must give him pause though. "We have known each other a very long time."

"Before Department X?" He sounds so pleading and he hates it, hates how desperate he sounds for any information about himself.

"Long before. We fought together. Were brothers."

"More than brothers." It's not a question, a whisp of a memory tells him that. Blond hair and strong arms and pants tangled at his ankles. Without context it doesn't mean anything but the man is the same. Steve doesn't push him to explain or talk, just watches. In the end he'll want to know what Bucky knows, just like everyone else does. For now he'll enjoy the way Steve looks at him and it doesn't matter if it's truly anything special. "So what now."

"SHIELD will likely be looking."

Bucky stares at his hands. SHIELD he remembers. As brutal as Department X with less to lose. At least with the Department he was an asset, he was more useful alive and whole then broken and bleeding. "I will kill them if they touch me again."

"I know. And they do to, they'll try to talk first."

Bucky looks at him and he acts on instinct, on fragments of broken memory and reaches out, curls his hand around Steve's cheek. "I trust you."

Steve smiles tightly and leans into the touch. "I want to take you home with me. I want to hold you again, remember what you taste like. But it's your choice. If you leave- If you want that, I won't stop you."

Bucky looks at him closely, looking for any signs or tells. But Steve seems nothing but honest. This is what he wants and Bucky has to make a call and hope it's the right one. "Not enough information," he mumbles. So he leans in to kiss Steve.

Underneath him, Steve jerks in surprise but it only lasts a second. Then he's shifting, tilting his head just so and his hand rests on Bucky's head and it's all easy and practiced. Bucky kisses back, letting muscle memory guide him, telling him that Steve likes the teasing hint of tongue and for Bucky to take the lead. Steve makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat and Bucky pulls back, scared he's done too much. "Bucky-"

"I don't have a home."

"You have my home."

-

SHIELD shows up like they both expect. They at least wait until the next day when they're both up. Sitwell lets himself in with a small group of agents just as Steve pins Bucky to the floor on the practice mat. Sam is there as well, sitting against a wall and offering advice on Steve's technique until they're interrupted.

"We're here to take the- Sergeant James Barnes back into protective custody," Sitwell says without preamble.

Steve only sees the flare of panic in Bucky's eyes cause he's looking. He rests a hand on Bucky's chest and shoots Sam a look. Not that Sam needs it, he's already hovering protectively.

"He's protected here," Steve says stiffly.

"But you're not, sir," Sitwell answers smoothly. "He's a hostile agent from a foreign superpower-"

"I'll show him hostile," Bucky growls but Sam catches his arm before he does something stupid. Steve has to bite back at how characteristically Bucky the small action is. Sitwell still takes a step back.

"Sir-" Sitwell tries again but Steve fixes him with a hard look.

"Get out. Now." There are four of them total, including Sitwell. They're all armed, probably dangerous but not die hards. Steve doesn't have his shield but he wouldn't need it. Sitwell eyes him thoughtfully, trying to judge Steve's intentions. "I don't like fights Agent, but I'm good at them."

"Fine, but we will be keeping an eye on his activities."

"I'm right here," Bucky snaps at their retreating backs.

Sitwell waits for his men to leave before meeting Bucky's eyes and giving a small nod. "We know." Steve shifts his weight so he's slightly more between them. As soon as the door closes, Steve turns as Bucky drops back to the mat.

"I should go. They'd know right?"

Bucky looks so desperate for something, some assurance that Steve can't give. "No they don't." He gently pulls Bucky back to his feet. "They think in black and white." He draws Bucky over to the kitchen table and sits him down. Sam ducks into the shower to give them a little bit of time alone without leaving.

"I'm not going to get better," Bucky says, straight to the point. He stares down at the table, barely reacting when Steve touches his arm. "The memories aren't going to come flooding back, lucky to have the ones I've got." When he looks up at Steve, he just looks tired.

"Then we'll make new ones."

Bucky quirks an eyebrow up, caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief. "Just like that?"

Steve smiles and leans into kiss him. "I'm sure something will come up to make it complicated."

"Well, as long as you promise."

-

Bucky's dreams are a mess. He dreams of bullets and blood. Stabbing a knife into a man's gut and poisoning another and he dreams of cold and rain in a foreign country, huddling in whatever shelter he can find with Steve at his side. When he wakes up the images all collide together and fade away leaving him with nothing.

Steve was disappointed when he asked to sleep in a separate room but didn't protest. Now though, with the clock telling him it's four AM and sleep isn't coming back, he doesn't want to be alone.

Things creep in his brain. A niggling feeling that something is going to go wrong, they're going to find him. The men who gave him orders, who stuck needles into him and put a gun in his hands, they won't let him go so easily.

Maybe SHIELD was right.

He's halfway across the living room when a window opens. Instinct sends him flying behind the couch, his hand feeling empty without a weapon.

"Buck?" Steve comes around the couch slowly and crouches down at the end. He's in uniform but shoves the cowl back so Bucky can see his face. Bucky flushes with embarrassment, a stupid overreaction based on stupid fears and now Steve's caught him. "Talk to me?" He settles down with his back to the couch, the shield in his lap and waits.

"Where were you?"

"Sam had stumbled on some small Hydra camp here in New York so we went in. Hit them hard and fast, scattered them and cleared out the building," Steve answers with no hesitation and no lie. "Were you leaving?"

"Yes." Steve didn't lie to him, so Bucky figures it's the least he can do for Steve. "I'm dangerous. If not me, than whoever made me."

"Think I can't take care of myself?"

"I-" But Steve's smiling at him and he reaches over to punch him in the shoulder. Steve laughs softly and catches his arm, tugging him over so Bucky sprawls awkwardly across him. His ribs still hurt from the beating at SHIELD and it's hard to believe it was only the other day. "You're such a damn hero," he murmurs.

"I don't know how to be anything else." He gets to his feet, helping Bucky up along with him. "Stick around. Please."

-

Steve finds Bucky on the roof. He's not doing anything and Steve swallows back the stab of fear that he might jump.

But Bucky turns when he hears Steve approach. "You really want me here?"

"Yes."

"I make you guilty, don't I?" He turns back to look out at the city. Steve wonders if Bucky ever saw it before, when he was young before it became the glass and metal creature it is now. "Living, breathing reminder of how you couldn't save me. I read the reports. You have them on a shelf."

"I'd rather you alive then still lost and believed dead," Steve says carefully, not sure what Bucky is thinking.

Bucky picks at an invisible thread on the hem of his shirt. One of Steve's shirts. It hangs oddly on him, too big in the shoulders but Bucky has a longer torso. "I thought it was the Russians I should be scared of. Scared that they'd buried something so deep in my head, just waiting for the perfect moment to trigger it. Turn me back into their machine."

Steve is close enough to touch and curls his fingers in the hem of Bucky's shirt. "Now what?"

"I'm scared it's the Americans who will turn me back into their machine."

"They won't." He cups the back of Bucky's head, lightly scratching his scalp and encouraging him to move closer on his own. Bucky drops his forehead onto Steve's shoulder. "I won't let them."

"How can you stop them?"

"Managed so far."

Bucky huffs a laugh and steps back, pulling free of Steve's arms. "Not that easy." Steve knows it isn't. He knows that and he hates it. Yet he reaches for Bucky again, not sure what else to do. "Can't save me, hero."

Steve kisses his forehead. "I know."

-

Bullets burn when they tear through a body, cutting through flesh and muscle and letting his blood spill. Bucky knows he shouldn't be there, it shouldn't be him but at the same time, he had no choice. There had been a chance, a chance to prove he was strong enough. Stronger than the broken memories.

He's not sure what lying there now, dying from blood loss proves but it's where he is now. Giving up has never been something he enjoyed, but this doesn't feel like giving up. It feels like moving on. And if nothing else, he took down all the other bastards before they finished him off.

Sam yells something as he comes bursting in. Steve is likely behind him but all Bucky wants to do is close his eyes.

His body aches but he feels so alive. He feels, maybe for the first time since he woke up in SHIELD. It's exhilarating. 

There are noises around him, people yelling and buzzing and he smiles into the chaos.

This is life.

Steve cups his face, the gloves are rough on his skin but the cowl is pushed back. All blonde and blue eyes, looking in fear down at him.

"Bucky-"

"It's okay Steve. Don't want to be okay." He closes his eyes again. He's breaking Steve's heart but he never truly came back from that icy death and they both know that.

-

Steve looks at the young man sitting at his table. He looks the same, his voice has the same cadences when he talks, which isn't much anymore. But it's all gone. Even the fragmented memories, repressed or finally broken into too many pieces to be recovered. No one seems to know which.

So Steve finishes making the cup of tea and sets it in front of him. "How do you feel, Bucky?" 

Bucky smiles, looking like the boy Steve used to know. "Thanks. You really don't have to."

Steve shakes his head. "Yea, I do." Bucky doesn't remember anything anymore, so Steve has to do it for both of them and he won't let Bucky down again.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Here's to the night' by Eve 6  
> Thank you to beardsley for dealing with me <3


End file.
